Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Guinea-Bissau and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Gap Band to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All Aural Exciters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DeepChord presents Echospace record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
The Smiths,
Motorama,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Fire Engines,
La Düsseldorf,
Pere Ubu,
Radiohead,
Radio Birdman,
Monolake,
Jeru the Damaja,
John Cale,
Cal Tjader,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lungfish,
Crash Course in Science,
Little Man,
R.M.O.,
The Walker Brothers,
Peter and Kerry,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sugar Minott,
The Sound,
The Names,
Wire,
Connie Case,
Ponytail,
ABBA,
The Techniques,
Kerri Chandler,
Inner City,
The Monks,
Tom Boy,
Warsaw,
Danielle Patucci,
Bill Near,
Organ,
Flipper,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Residents,
Gang Green,
World's Most,
Nils Olav,
the Soft Cell,
Spandau Ballet,
The American Breed,
The Saints,
Kayak,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Jandek,
The Flesh Eaters,
A Certain Ratio,
Bill Wells,
The Motions,
Black Sheep,
Girls At Our Best!,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ultimate Spinach,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Curtis Mayfield,
Main Source,
The Neon Judgement,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.